Peace or War?
by Thepikminmaster
Summary: An expansion of The Princess and The Queen from here (/c45/p16.html) Inspired by the Naval Adventures, it follows the characters of BCB in a fantasy setting. Also takes inspiration from A Song of Ice and Fire.


_After reading TheRealSomeone's Naval Adventures, it inspired me with that use of BCB characters in different settings. After attempting some fanfiction earlier in the years, I decided to try again. I think this one chapter will probably be one-off and I may never carry it on. But who knows, maybe I'll get round to writing some more. Depends._

_If you want to critique it, go ahead. If you want to say it's good, go ahead. If you want to say it's shit and I should die…say it in nicer terms._

_Credit is due to Ms Veronica Vera whose characters are used in this new attempt. Also to TheRealSomeone for inspiration, even if I don't intend to use any ideas featured. Maybe a little credit to A Song of Ice and Fire for inspiration, and RuneScape, and WoW, J R R Tolkien, The Chronicles of Narnia, a few websites and some other fanfics that have been lost in time…_

_The story is based from 'The Princess and The Queen'., so you may see the few discrete links. I thought it'd be interesting to see how it could play out._

_Either way enjoy this. And don't hope for updates, but do encourage me. Merci._

* * *

The Tavern

The tavern was named the Rolling Stone, for very good reason. It had been built onto the side of the hill, alongside the running river and amongst the boulders that littered the foothills of Eleanor. It was sturdy stone, mixed with wood that creaked with a billowing wind that swept up on the coldest of nights. It was one of those nights, where the snow was being blown sideways into the walls and rushing underneath the cracks of the door. A terrible draft, but when it was busy it couldn't be felt at all. This wasn't one of those nights, and so the few patrons had cloaks wrapped tightly around them; winter sodden furs.

In the middle of the tavern's mess of tables and benches sat two man; one young and one old. The younger one was a dirty orange nekoji, with flared whiskers and fur. He was ablaze with colour and fury, his eyes a sharp orange. His teeth were sharp, aside from his one good canine, slightly chipped. It stuck out when he smiled, and attracted the young maidens when they saw it. They loved eye-patches, scars and tattoos just as much as his chipped tooth. It meant he'd been in fierce things, but had evaded death to the bitter edge.

The older one had grey fur, dirty and soaked. His whiskers were crooked and curled. The old man had seen tough battles; he had a white wolf's fur wrapped around his neck and black bear's skin over his back. And on his hips sat a longsword in its sheath, worn and old alike the man. He coughed when laughed, which rattled throughout his chest like a terrible illness. But he drank the ale in front of him as if it kept him alive and he admired the young nekoji's vigour. That and the fact he was so naïve.

'Did I tell you I saw the walls of Adria as they were torn down?' said the old man.

'Really?' asked the younger one, condescendingly.

'Aye, best moment of my life,' said the old one, ignoring the tone, 'we ripped it to shreds with our cannons! I was on top of it when the first blows came, and I had to run down its length as we let them loose! People thrown hither and thither until we had a mile long hole to run through.'

'How old were you?'

'Bout sixteen odd. First big war. I was there with Sir Abraham I'll have you know, fighting alongside,' said the old man.

'No you weren't!' burst out the young nekoji, 'you expect me to believe that!?'

There was a pause between them as the old man licked his lips and eyed the young one. Then he smiled and shook his head as he finished off his ale.

'Alright, maybe that was a white lie. But I was there when we tore down Adria's Wall!'

'I'm sure you were…' said the young nekoji, when the door opened and sent a cold breeze through the entire tavern.

'Close the damn door!' shouted the old man.

'We're looked for Sir Paulo! Has anyone seen him pass through here?' called the strong voices.

The young nekoji turned towards them and eyed them, before calling, 'that's me.'

The two at the door were dressed in steel armour. They were part of the Saulguard, no question; the emblem of a horse's head behind a rose was engraved into their chests. Paulo knew exactly what it meant and he put down his ale. The two men stepped up as the closest unfolded a note that bore the seal of the royals.

'It is the First Lady's wish that you ride to Saulstone presently. She has urgent orders for you that require your counsel and further discussion. We will accompany you on the journey,' said the first guard.

'The Princess?' exclaimed Paulo. His heart cringed. 'I'll leave at dawn.'

'Very well sir,' the two guards said.

'Have a seat lads,' said the old nekoji, slapping the seat next to him, 'I was just about to explain the day we blew Adria's Wall to hell…'


End file.
